Froggy Memories
by societallyDysfunctional
Summary: England recalls a horrifically froggy event that he wished had never happened. (summary sucks. just a funny little oneshot) (bit of FrUK, some USUK)


England rubbed his eyes sleepily and groaned; his head throbbed painfully. _What happened last night?_ he thought. When his eyes adjusted to the sunlight streaming through the large window, he realized that he wore no clothes and lay in an unfamiliar bed. The sheets were tangled between his legs and clothes were strewn throughout the room.

"Shit," he muttered, sitting up. "Bloody fucking hell, where am I?"

Then he noticed another man's sleeping form beside him with his head in the pillow. He couldn't see the man's face, but that shoulder-length wavy blond hair looked awfully familiar.

"No, this can't be happening, fuck no!"

"Oh, _Angleterre_, it already did," a disgustingly French voice drawled.

"YOU SODDING FROG I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ALLOWED THIS TO HAPPEN!" England cried, kicking France hard in the leg. France winced and sat up, rubbing his leg.

"Do you think I wanted this to happen?!" France demanded angrily. "I assure you, I do not like you any more than you like me! I was just as intoxicated as you were last night, I am disgusted to admit."

"I can't believe that I… that I—with _you_. You perverse, vulgar _frog_."

"I am not any less disgusted by you, _caterpillar brows_." England glared daggers at him.

"Don't you fucking dare look while I put my clothes on, or else," England warned, then threw the sheet in France's face. He quickly found his boxers and pants, putting them on as fast as he possibly could. By the time France had wrestled the sheet off, England was fully clothed.

"I swear to God, if you speak of this to anyone, I'll—" England jabbed a finger into France's face.

"You'll what?" France taunted.

"I'll tell everyone who topped," England replied, grinning mercilessly. France's eyes widened.

"You wouldn't _dare_—"

"Try me. Besides, I wouldn't be lying," England challenged. He knew he had France cornered. "I won't tell anyone if you don't. You'd best keep your lips _sealed_, frog. You know I can do much worse than that. You'll regret it." France gulped. With that, England stormed out of the bedroom and let the door slam behind him, knowing full well that no one would find out about the event and cursing under his breath for allowing himself to get into that situation in the first place.

—

England sat bolt upright in bed, then realized where he was and sighed. _God, for a second I thought it happened again_, he thought, relieved beyond measure that he was in his soft flannel pajamas in a comfy, familiar bed. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, checking the digital clock on the nightstand. Nearly six; still too early to wake up. He heard America's light snoring next to him and rolled his eyes. England turned around and kissed the forehead of the peacefully slumbering America. Then he stood up quietly and began padding to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water, stepping lightly as he could.

"Arthur, come back to bed," America mumbled, opening one eye. Arthur gave a tiny smile and sat back down on the bed, absentmindedly reaching to run his fingers through America's dirty blond hair.

"Oh, alright," England agreed, staring off into space. America noticed his odd tone.

"What's wrong, Artie?" America asked, opening both of his blue eyes.

"Nothing, love," he assured him. "Just some nightmarish memories from centuries ago. Before I knew you."

America grinned drowsily and pulled England into his warm embrace. England relaxed, letting go of the troubling dream/memory. He knew it wouldn't happen again, not while he had America.

"I love you, Alfred," England whispered, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. America hadn't heard; he was already snoring quietly. England smiled softly and drifted to sleep.

* * *

_A/N: I have no idea what I just wrote. To justify myself, I will tell you all that my friend, whom I shall not name, forced me to write it. However, it was because of a headcanon that sprung up in my head. I feel like at one point in their long history, France and England probably got drunk and accidentally had a one night stand. Then they swore never to speak of it again, both of them disgusted. I do not ship FrUK at all, keep that in mind. It just seems like a thing that would have happened. (they were both horrified, of course)_

_ANYWAY, I am very sorry about this thing. I hope you like it, maybe a bit. I am so sorry for putting you through that. If you'd like to review, feel free to tell me what you thought, good or bad._

_~Rebecca_


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